2016

“Goodbye Norma Jean” at the Park Theatre

An Essex grandmother runs away from her care home to Los Angeles, where she claims to be Marilyn Monroe. She’s followed by her grandson Joe, portrayed sensitively by Jamie Hutchins, and their relationship is explored with frank humour. The star is Vicki Michelle, famous for her role in ‘Allo ‘Allo, who makes the jokes work and creates some tender moments. Michelle lights up the show and is incredibly engaging. It’s unfortunate that the material falls short of her talents.

Dylan Costello’s script, which director Matthew Gould fails to rein in, suffers from leaden lines and an excess of events. Joe, whose boyfriend is abusive, talks to an imaginary Marilyn and has a burgeoning romance to deal with. It’s not that any of these plots are bad but, when combined, the play takes on more than it can cope with. Themes of fame and self-worth are fine, the topics are rich if unoriginal, but they end up being shouted and what could be a sweet comedy ends up taking itself too seriously.

The play has unhappy roles for its secondary characters. Farrel Hegarty has a near impossible task as two versions of imaginary Marilyns (I am afraid she appears to Michelle’s character as well) and only gets to shine with a smaller role as a TV host – yet another subplot that rams home the play’s suspicion of celebrity. Even worse is the part of Bobby, played by Peter McPherson. Costello creates characterisation through backstory alone – in just one scene we see Bobby as an unstable practical joker, a prostitute, a drug addict and the lover of a Hollywood star threatening to kill him. Clearly, a life a little too crowded with incident.

As for dialogue, the script is a tiresome collection of homespun truths that shouldn’t have been allowed out of the house, let alone near a stage. Some efforts at profundity don’t even make sense, especially in the relationship between Joe and Bobby, who fall in and out of love from sentence to sentence and end up talking about opening a pizza restaurant together. Nonsense like this, including a scene where Joe gets some new trainers, slows things down dreadfully. Throwing in terminal cancer and euthanasia seems vaguely tasteless and Costello’s script continually deflates during a painful second act. Hutchins struggles valiantly and Michelle makes sure you aren’t bored, but it’s a relief to say goodbye rather than au revoir to a script like this.

Until 19 March 2016

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photo by Mia Hawk

2016

“The Maids” at the Trafalgar Studios

Jamie Lloyd might well be the perfect director for iconoclastic playwright Jean Genet. Both share an irreverent bold approach and a Baroque intensity epitomised in Lloyd’s stirring production of Genet’s 1947 piece. The sick, twisted, sexualised fantasies of two servants, role-playing the murder of their mistress, are made “drunk, wild, beautiful” in this visually arresting and accomplished show.

Lloyd also has a way with stars, enticing exciting talent to the West End and getting the most from many a performer. The luminaries here are Uzo Aduba (from Orange is the New Black), joined by Zawe Ashton, playing the titular revolting servants. Ashton gives a fine performance, Aduba a tremendous one. Intense from the start, Ashton drags up as her mistress for a disturbed ‘ceremony’ that’s an orgy of degradation, violence and kink – her jerky movements unsettle and excite. Aduba is an astonishing presence on stage, frightening and engrossing, her intelligent appreciation of the rhythm of the text carrying you forcibly through the traumatic, suspenseful, action.

Laura Carmichael and Uzo Aduba in The Maids CREDIT Marc Brenner
Laura Carmichael and Uzo Aduba

When Mistress arrives it’s a blunt shock to find she’s every bit as bad as we’ve been led to believe. Laura Carmichael holds her own (no small achievement given the brevity of her role) portraying a superficial, doll-like rich bitch. This contemporary, recognisable, figure allows Lloyd to emphasise the play’s political content: the accents may be American but a London audience is instantly connected to Kensington.

Fun is had by Lloyd, in keeping with the work of translators Benedict Andrews and Andrew Upton. Genet’s rich themes are explored bravely but there’s also humour from some of the exaggeration here – the maids giggle more than you might expect. The language is blue (very) but I can’t imagine Genet would blush. It’s surprising you don’t see this play revived more often. Lloyd’s production is a valuable addition to the reputation of a modern classic.

Until 21 May 2016

www.atgtickets.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

2016

“Cleansed” at the National Theatre

Playwright Sarah Kane’s notoriety and early death make an assessment of any revival problematic. It may still be too soon to appraise Kane’s work objectively but it is disappointing that her first play to be staged at the National Theatre, under the aegis of director Katie Mitchell, embraces oddity and opacity to a degree that the piece unravels as a sensation-seeking mess.

My best guess is that the institution we’re taken inside of is a lunatic asylum – and that we are seeing it through the eyes of an inmate. The doctor is a torturer, the staff faceless figures, mutilating any patient professing love for another. To say the action is gruesome is an understatement: it includes rape, cutting off fingers and toes and an enforced sex change. Kane’s twisted imagination is haunting. But here, the imagery is delivered in so exaggerated a fashion that it’s more schlocky than shocking.

Kane’s Orwellian motifs are matched by Mitchell injecting touches of Pasolini. With a penchant for slow motion that makes the staging feel dated, and people walking backwards (Mitchell likes that), the whole thing is far too close to parody for comfort: we know it’s art since nobody is wearing shoes. Kane’s imagination is not matched by designer Alex Eales’ derelict-looking clinic – the play deserves more than distressed wall and few broken tiles.

The performances have a stilted quality that results from Mitchell’s heavy hand. There’s a lot of hard work, especially from Michelle Terry, whose character is grieving for a lost brother, and Peter Hobday, a sad soul whose love for his partner is tested via horrific torture. The performers feel like puppets and no character is elaborated enough to generate much interest. A frantic energy fills the show but is counter-productive, all the alarms and running around prove tiresome, while repetition makes things duller still.

Yet the biggest problems for the production are more basic. A lot of dialogue is difficult to hear. There isn’t much plot in Cleansed but distinguishing the characters is made trickier than it needs to be. And, if you are sitting at the sides of the auditorium, far too much action is out of sight. The music and sound design, by Paul Clark and Melanie Wilson, are interesting but strangely muted. All these frustrations added together make it tempting to just give up. Reports of people fainting at the show seem questionable – it’s more likely that they fell off their chairs when they fell asleep.

Until 5 May 2016

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey

2016

“Protect and Survive” at the Vault Festival

Michael Ross’ comedy drama takes us back to the 1980s and is a brilliant satire about that dire decade. The observations are spot on (there’s even a reference to Clannad) making this short play about three teenagers exploring a nuclear bunker full of laughs. Impressively, as local country boy Jack provides a dangerous adventure for London siblings Kirsty and Charlie, the jokes turn pitch black in the blink of an eye.

Our couple from the capital are blissfully recognisable. With a knowing eye on their “cosmopolitan identity politics”, Ross makes his subject more than just nostalgia. Kirsty has a realistically thin sophistication that Carla Rose renders superbly. Charlie is fantastically funny, his every line worth quoting – bourgeois is “French for Daily Mail reader” – and delivered gleefully by Josh Husselbee.
Protect and Survive VAULT image 2
The central role is Jack, performed with care by Karl Mercer, who injects an intriguing childlike quality into his character. Twisted fantasies become all the more shocking and have a comic edge – some of the situations really shouldn’t this funny, and it’s a gift to make people laugh and then feel slightly ashamed for doing so.

There’s an interesting twist too – a parallel drawn between the danger and paranoia of the Cold War and that surrounding the AIDS crisis – an idea that deserves further exploration. Andrew Pritchard’s direction makes great use of the space (including a lovely scene with torches), which, although uncomfortable and smelly, is perfect for the underground locale of the play. But it’s Ross’s humour that makes the play really exciting. Intelligent and genuinely subversive, this comedy has an energy that indicates how much the writer has to say.

Until 6 March 2016

www.vaultfestival.com

Photos by Andrew Pritchard

2016

“Table Top Shakespeare” at the Barbican

Shakespeare with a cast of condiments sounds simply daft. Presented on a desk, as advertised, bottles and objects make their entrances and exits, standing in for the characters, controlled by a single performer who retells the plot of the play. That all this is perilously close to parody can’t be lost on Forced Entertainment, the company responsible for hosting the whole of Shakespeare’s canon in this fashion. There’s a reverential air to the hour-long retellings that raises an ironic smile. But against the odds, it’s all strangely compelling and affords an insight into the plays that makes it a tremendous theatrical experience in its own right.

The performance I attended was Richard II. The monarch was a bottle of water, his attendants salt and pepper pots. Terry O’Connor recounted events slowly and carefully, occasionally pointing out famous lines. The retelling isn’t as neutral as it seems – alongside O’Connor’s engaging and clear delivery – there’s a subtle commentary added. Forced Entertainment’s technique exposes the mechanics of the play’s construction, which proves enlightening. Bereft of alarums and excursions, it’s an intense experience. The objects, empowered by your imagination, hold attention with surprising force – I don’t think I have ever felt so much for the role of Richard’s queen – here a cut-glass vase. Brilliantly simple and simply brilliant.

Until 6 March 2016

www.forcedentertainment.com

2016

“Transports” at the Pleasance Theatre

Travelling briefly to London from Cornwall, Pipeline Theatre’s play is a strong piece of storytelling, written and directed by Jon Welch. Get your tickets quickly, as this multi-layered story, drawing parallels between two very different women’s lives, is a powerful and rewarding work.

Flitting between the arrival of Lotte in London with Kindertransport and her fostering of troubled teenager Dinah many years later, there’s no shortage of plot here. The script feels crammed at times, but the central relationship, set in the 1970s and tapping into trauma, makes for great drama.

These are dream roles for actresses. Playing the young Lotte and Dinah is Hannah Stephens. The former couldn’t be a bigger contrast to the damaged teenager who was abandoned at birth and disturbingly associates sex with power. Stephens’ conveys a dangerous edge, alongside fragility, brilliantly.

Juliet Welch also doubles roles, as the older Lotte and as Lotte’s first carer when she arrives from Germany. These are carefully crafted performances – her face changes remarkably between the roles and Lotte’s trace of an accent is well studied. Welch’s ability to make this “crazy old woman” more than simply endearing, with the odd penetrating remark, is well honed.

There are occasional moments when the direction feels laboured, often those around the frequent changes of (well-sourced) costumes. Some flashback scenes are frustratingly short. But Transports, gaining poignancy from being inspired by the real-life story of Liesl Munden, still alive and well in Cornwall, is impressively unsentimental. Similarities between Lotte and Dinah’s emotions, focusing on violence against women, are powerful but never forced – they resonate rather than deafen. Best of all are Dinah’s monologues – flashes of poetry that are electric and show that this often quiet play is powered by rocket fuel.

Until 12 March 2016

www.pleasance.co.uk

2016

“Uncle Vanya” at the Almeida Theatre

Following his triumphant Oresteia last year, director Robert Icke has created a similarly bold and fresh adaptation of Chekhov’s masterpiece. Contemporary in feel, especially its humour, Vanya is translated into John, wearing comfy slacks, while his brother-in-law Alexander, retiring to the country, could easily be an Islington academic. Alexander’s second wife Elena accompanies him and unrequited love leads to questions about the meaning of life.

Icke breaks up the action into bite-sized chunks. The short opening act establishes these “closed off eccentrics” – family and friends – living too intimately together. Tobias Menzies quickly captivates as the local doctor with a passion for ecology (more big themes here). John’s problems are clear: feeling his life has been just “notes in the margin”, he wittily woos Elena with his guitar, while his steely mother (Susan Wooldridge) looks on.

UNCLE VANYA 97 - JESSICA BROWN FINDLAY AND VANESSA KIRBY BY MANUEL HARLAN
Jessica Brown Findlay and Vanessa Kirby

During the second act we meet Alexander, depicted so skilfully by Hilton McRae that it’s easy to understand how John feels “conned” into working for him. It’s clear that John’s drunken singing to Iggy Pop’s Lust For Life isn’t going to make up for years of devotion. But the scene belongs to Alexander’s daughter Sonya (Jessica Brown Findlay) and Elena, a part that Vanessa Kirby gets an impressive amount of comedy from. The women’s relationship is acted with the naturalism Icke aims for: stopping and starting conversations that reveal their exhaustion with the “petty cruelty” of their lives and their desperate search for love.

The boredom Elena and Alexander have brought with them is a dangerous “contagion”, contrasted with the not-so-gainful employment that’s been occupying everyone until they arrived. It’s John who suffers most. His breakdown is dramatic, if not without comedy, and Paul Rhys’ stumbling, fumbling portrayal is profoundly moving.

Icke is always sure-footed. Using Hildegard Bechtler’s slowly rotating stage, we get a great view of this human goldfish bowl. Addresses to the audience make this Uncle Vanya unusually direct. For the finale, the search for ‘The Art of Living’, glibly proposed as the title of Alexander’s next book, is never going to be lightweight. The only solace on offer seems to be hard work – literally. Join the characters as they hum ‘Hi, Ho, Hi, Ho’ and get off to see this show. Just don’t expect to leave smiling.

Until 26 March 2016

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2016

“Mrs Henderson Presents” at the Noël Coward Theatre

Let’s not be prudish – for the West End it’s essential to put bums on seats. Taking a lesson from its real-life subject – a nude variety show presented by the eponymous producer during WWII – there’s plenty of flesh on display here and scope for good old-fashioned smutty humour. At least in 2016, Mrs Henderson’s girls are given a voice, although the exploitation of their naked bodies is glossed over as an opportunity for them to be extraordinary. And the show’s boast of bravely running throughout the Blitz provides predictable flag-waving sentimentality. Neither crowd-pleasing tactic is particularly edifying.

This is not, of course, the fault of the cast. And while Terry Johnson’s book is surprisingly leaden, his direction is good, as are a strong set from Tim Shortall and costumes by Paul Wills. Tracie Bennett and Ian Bartholomew are excellent leads as Mrs Henderson and her right-hand man, Vivian Van Damm. Entering the theatre business is a whim for her and he is Jewish – this seems to be all we need to know about them. There’s a sweet love story for Emma Williams, who leads a strong ensemble, but a general lack of emotional attachment to an assortment of quickly sketched characters. The biggest disappointment comes with a dreadful role for Jamie Foreman, a pointless narrator and comedian with dire jokes – a warm-up man who leaves you cold.

Indeed, Mrs Henderson Presents is a pretty frigid and calculated affair. Much could be forgiven if the songs were good but George Fenton and Simon Chamberlain’s tunes are mostly forgettable. The first half is particularly foggy and while things do pick up there’s really only one adventurous number – foolishly the only chance for Williams to show off a great voice. The real shock comes from Don Black’s lyrics, at times so banal that you start guessing which rhyme will come up next. Unforgivably, one song has lad, mad and bad in one verse. The performances on offer might mean the show should be a hit but the lyrics are merde.

Until 18 June 2016

www.mrshenderson.co.uk

Photo by Paul Coltas

2016

“A Steady Rain” at the Arcola Theatre

Known for his work on House of Cards and Mad Men, writer Keith Huff’s hit Broadway play receives its London premiere under the skilled direction of Andrew Pearson. “Oppressive and grey” in tone and subject matter, this is a grim police tale, superbly performed.

Never mind the rain, beat cops Danny and Joey tell the story of a bloody summer. Tragic events escalate (a little too torrentially) into an exciting crime story of crooked, out-of-control cops and marital breakdown.

Police procedures and political correctness add an authentic air, although a touch labored. More impressively, Huff evokes a love triangle with Danny’s wife. Despite the play being a two hander, the marriage and affair are palpably conveyed.

Danny is a “stand up guy”, his faults coming into explosive focus. Vincent Regan gives a performance that brims with violence – showing Danny’s loyalty to family jostling alongside illegal activities. Pal Joey is a “non starter”, a “mutt” even, as a recovering alcoholic out for the good life Danny has. David Schaal makes us root for this underdog while questioning how devoted he is to his bullying old friend.

The biggest achievement from both actors is in their teamwork, which convinces quickly and absolutely of their closeness. Their intimacy is the foundation for an examination of friendship against an increasingly breathless plot that’s so accomplished it becomes satisfyingly tricky to precisely locate blame and betrayal.

Until 5 March 2016

www.arcolatheatre.com

Photo by Nick Rutter

2016

“Nell Gwynn” at the Apollo Theatre

Historical romps are not uncommon on the British stage. And the theatre loves referencing itself. Combining the two, with the story of 17th-century actress-turned-courtier Nell Gwynn, makes sense and provides a hit for playwright Jessica Swale. There’s plenty of fun from Gwynn’s love affair with King Charles II, while John Dryden’s hastily scribed plays add a touch of behind-the-scenes Noises Off style laughs. Having started at Shakespeare’s Globe, this show retains the venue’s vibe, pleasing the crowd with great gags and catchy tunes. No time for stuffiness here – this is a terrific night out.

Gemma Arterton’s performance in the title role is a joy. She’s cheeky, chirpy and utterly charming. Easily carrying Swale’s pointed remarks on women in the theatre and making the risqué comedy look effortless, Arterton proves a queen of innuendo. There are superb cameos from Sarah Woodward and Sasha Waddell as the other women in Charles’ life – both suitably overblown and over-painted – but the glorious Michele Dotrice steals every scene as Nell’s dresser, bringing the house down with a single salutation to the King and getting more laughs out of playing a triangle than you’d have thought possible.

Michele Dotrice
Michele Dotrice

There are men in the play, too and it’s satisfying that for once they take a back seat. Greg Haiste has the best lines as the actor who used to perform women’s roles before those “actor-esses” came along. And there’s a fine turn from David Sturzaker as Charles, who gracefully allows himself to be upstaged by a dog. The chemistry between the King and his mistress is down to the performances and builds touchingly. And yet it’s only fitting that the irresistible Arterton grabs our main attention. As for demanding better parts for women, condemning Shakespeare’s Juliet as a “noodle”, the play provides its own irrefutable answer.

David Sturzaker
David Sturzaker

A lot of Swale’s script should really be too downright silly to work. The comedy is as broad as a pantomime and historical references land with a bang that I presume is designed to pop any pomposity. More seriously, attempts to give the characters depth – let’s make the merry Monarch melancholy – are ham-fisted. Subtle it ain’t, but it works. And in spectacular fashion, with direction from Christopher Luscombe powering the play along and a series of performances that rocket the piece into the comic stratosphere.

Until 30 April 2016

www.nimaxtheatres.com

Photos by Tristram Kenton